


In The Quiet of the Night

by sterlingstars



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, They are so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4819406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlingstars/pseuds/sterlingstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is peace to be found in Steve Rogers' body. Every smile, every curve of muscle, the fingers, the way he moves. Bucky knows this peace- clings to it, craves it, and lets it devour him whenever he needs it most. Steve lets him, because of course he does. They can never say no to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Quiet of the Night

There is a certain peace to be found in Steve Rogers' body, Bucky thinks. It is a safe haven, a beacon of stillness and comfort, bound in flesh and muscle. The curve of a smile is home, the taste familiar as his own. The feel of his hands, his skin, is more familiar, more comfortable, than that of Bucky's own. He doesn't mind it, though. 

He runs his flesh hand through cropped blond hair as Steve rests against his chest, breathing slow and even, just being touched by the edge of sleepiness. He's had two orgasms and it shows, his body soft and pliant beneath Bucky's hand as he lies nearly on top of him, boneless and still a little flushed. He smiles as he runs his hand through Steve's hair, making a soft noise of content. 

Steve looks up at him through those baby blues, looking up through his lashes, his mouth still a little swollen and showing as he gives a small smile.

“C'mere, you,” Bucky says, and moves his hand from Steve's hair to his chin, tilting it up to bring their mouths together in a kiss. 

It's soft, slow, lazy. Steve practically melts into Bucky, and he smiles against his mouth as he pulls him up so their faces are even, bodies flush. Steve makes a soft noise, and it raises something powerful in Bucky, though that isn't unusual. Really, all Steve has to do is breathe, and he gets a reaction out of him. He's a little weak like that, but he'll take the weakness for all the good that comes with it.

The good of Steve's hands in his hair, his moans against Bucky's mouth, the smell of sex heavy on the air. The way his blood hums as they kiss, the feeling of Steve's body going soft and pliant against his hands, arching into his touch. Yes, he chooses this, no matter what else comes with it. This is worth everything else, he knows. 

They've already gone two rounds, but Steve is climbing on top of Bucky, kissing his neck, and both of their bodies are already very interested in the proceedings. Steve is soft and warm against him, his kisses deep and languid. Bucky runs his hands over the smooth muscles of Steve's back, stop on his ass. He squeezes, the muscle firm and perfect, fitting into his hands just right. Steve gasps, and Bucky smiles.

“Let me take care of you, babydoll,” Bucky purrs. “One more time. What do you say?”

Steve nods through a moan, and their mouths come together again. It takes a little while, but Bucky finally manages to flip them over, Steve on his back and looking up at him with dark, wide eyes. His kiss-swollen mouth is parted, and Bucky touches his lips with his fingers, reverant. Steve sucks them into his mouth, kisses them before swirling his tongue around the digits, and Bucky groans low in his throat. 

“Baby, you make me feel like an animal,” he says, voice low, and Steve smirks a little. 

“Oh yeah?” His voice is rough, throaty, abrasive from his earlier cries. “Wanna take it out on me?”

Bucky groans, pulling Steve against him harder, his hands gripping his ass hard enough to bruise. Steve makes a breathy noise into his mouth, encouraging him. Bucky takes Steve's mouth as he pleases, licking into it, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Steve's panting, breath warm against Bucky's mouth, and he whimpers as Bucky sucks on his lip after biting it again. It's all slick, warm bodies pressed together, tongues laving over mouths and jaws, Bucky's hands roaming across Steve's abs and hips, enjoying the shivers it produces. He's so sensitive, already blissed out on pleasure, strung-out and begging for more. 

He arches into every touch and fits perfectly, like his body was sculpted just to fit Bucky's hands. His moans fuel Bucky evern further, dragging his hands across Steve's hot skin slow and steady, drawing the sound out him. Wrenching it from his swollen, trembling mouth, pulling it out and into Bucky's ears, where it travels to his abdomen and settles, fueling his desire as well as his throbbing cock. 

“Want you to fuck me,” Steve breathes, the words running together a little. “Please, Buck.”

“Like I would do anything else,” he whispers against Steve's hip. “I know how to take care of you, baby.”

Steve groans and nods, boneless against the mattress, his legs parting for Bucky with no assistance. His cock is already hard again, straight and heavy between his legs, and Bucky's mouth waters. He fumbles around the bed for the lube, finds it tangled in the sheets. Uncaps it, slicks his hand up nice and good, sets it down and gets to work.

There's no prelude, no teasing. They've been here already tonight, and the pleasure is already crawling through their veins, already has a home there. Just one more spark and it'll spring to life again- and that's what they're searching for. There's no need for the formalities when Steve's already come twice and is a ragdoll in Bucky's hands, a filthy sound wrenching from his mouth when Bucky gets a finger inside him. He shudders, warm and already slightly loose around Bucky, and moves his hips a little, silently asking for more when his mouth won't do the work for him.

Bucky obliges, going at a steady, even pace, just on the edge of something more urgent. There was no teasing, sure, but he wants to take a little bit of time for this, because he knows once they're finished, it'll be lights out. He feels alive with the lust that's thick in his veins, but as soon as he brings himself over the edge he knows he's going to sink into the bed and away. So he wants to make this one really count.

“More,” Steve gasps, and Bucky smirks and presses a kiss to his hipbone, obliging him.

He can never say no- especially not during moments like these. 

He works Steve open, two fingers now, and Steve is all breathless noises and half-words, firm thighs trembling as Bucky strokes up inside him. This is where he likes to be; in the thick of it, a little past words but never past touching, some of the most intimate parts of himself colliding with Steve with no apologies. This is where he feels safe, secure, solid in himself. There is no room for doubt here, Steve gasping his name like a god damn prayer, rocking into his touch, telling him how good it is, how much he wants it, and as an inverbal addition, how much he trusts Bucky, knows him and loves him, by letting him do this. 

It's an unspoken conversation of trust, of love, of understanding. Bucky comes to Steve's body to worship, to pour out his worries into his flesh, and Steve lets him, opens himself up and lets Bucky make a home in his ribcage, in his blood and bones. That's where he feels safest, feels at home. 

He knows he belongs here, and he lets Steve know it.

This is no exception. He settles into the rhythm, and Steve lets Bucky devour him with wide eyes and a pliant body. He asks for more with his eyes and Bucky gives. Three fingers, Steve still a little tight enough to need to be worked open, gasping, breathless, a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. Bucky licks his lips, a wolf watching his prey. Steve waits, begs to be devoured, far from the frightened rabbit, as has always been his nature, even back when his body didn't allow it.

Steve is making a steady stream of noise, all choked and panting, incoherent. He throws his head back and keens, and a raw, low sound rips itself out of Bucky's throat of its own accord. 

“ _Baby_ ,” he growls, low and hungry. “Oh god, baby, look what you're doin' to me.”

Steve manages one of his sweetest smiles through his haze of incoherent pleasure, and Bucky is breathless. There. That's it. This is the ultimate prize- not even his pleasure, his laugh. This, right here- his indisputable, undeniable happiness. That is what Bucky is aiming for, in everything he does. Every fiber of his being gravitates towards Steve, craves this, does whatever is necessary in order to achieve it. 

“Stop teasin' me,” Steve gasps. “I want it. Come on. I'm ready for you.”

“Oh, Stevie- you were _born_ ready for me,” Bucky whispers, and Steve can't even speak, because he's already slicked up and pushing himself in, slow and gentle.

There's a tense moment, but as soon as the head of Bucky's cock pushes in, Steve relaxes, releasing a deep, shaky breath. Bucky moves, tender and slow, and Steve rocks into it, mouth hanging open as he steadily pants out shaky noises. Bucky leans over him, presses kisses to his eyes, his forehead, jaw, everywhere he can land his mouth. Steve reaches up, weaves his fingers into Bucky's hair, loosely clinging to the strands as he works his hips to meet Bucky's thrusts.

He goes deeper, gives more, and Steve moans his appreciation into Bucky's mouth. Their tongues swipe, and Bucky sucks that beautiful bottom lip of his, coaxing more noise out of his mouth. The bed rocks, steady, in time with his thrusts, and Steve pants in rhythm, writhing a little beneath Bucky's body. It is a moment of solid perfection, and Bucky wants to stretch it out as long as he can.

He lands kisses down Steve's neck, sucks a mark just under his ear. They never stay for more than an hour, but he likes to leave them anyway, and look at them while they do last. There's a beauty in how temporary they are, but Bucky can't think straight enough to sort out just what, so he doesn't linger on the thought too long. 

Steve is melted into the mattress beneath him, rocking and moaning, his hands roaming over Bucky's back. Short, blunt nails rake across the muscle, fingers curve around his shoulderblades. He's hot, panting, one leg hooked around Bucky's hip to change the angle and drive him deeper.

“Bucky,” he pants. “Feels so good, baby...”

“Mmm,” he hums, face buried in Steve's neck. 

Just listens to the noises he's making, the feeling of the tight heat of his body around his cock, familiar and so good. 

“I love you,” Steve gasps, hands tugging hard at Bucky's hair. “God, I love you so much, Bucky...” He turns his head, plants a sloppy kiss on Bucky's temple, rocks his hips like he really means it. “Bucky, I love you- Bucky...”

He's on the edge now, shaking, repeating that same line like a mantra, the words running together. His whole body is flushed in the way that it always gets when he's aroused, or even embarrassed, and as always, it looks ridiculously good on him. Bucky gives him sweet kisses on the jaw, his mouth, smiling. He picks up the pace a little more, and Steve shudders, an obscene noise making it out past his gaping mouth.

Steve clenches a little, and Bucky moans, heart skittering.

“Shit, Stevie,” he whispers. “Gotta warn a guy before you lay it on him like that,”

“Not a chance,” Steve pants. “Like the look on your face.”

Bucky chuckles, and Steve joins him. They laugh a little, in the middle of their lust-filled haze, and it adds a layer to the pleasure, to the warmth. Steve's laugh is soft and rich, full, and that fills Bucky up even more than the approaching orgasm tugging at his insides. 

“You gonna keep talkin, or are you gonna come for me? That's what you wanted, right?” Bucky purrs into Steve's ear, punctuating the sentence by tugging the lobe between his teeth.

Steve groans, low and deep in his chest, and he's breathing heavily, rocking his hips at an even pace, eyes wide and pupils blown dark enough so only a ring of that baby blue remains visible. Bucky likes the sight just as much as the next guy, and picks up the pace a little. Steve's mouth drops open, and he pulls Bucky's hair as he writhes.

“Oh, _God_ ,” he gasps, and Bucky can feel his thighs tremble. “Bucky, oh my God, Bucky, don't stop, I'm so close, Bucky.”

Bucky smiles and kisses Steve's neck before he brings a hand to his cock. Steve makes a strangled noise, hips rising into the contact, and Bucky's smile widens. He strokes him at a quick, steady pace, in time with his thrusts, and Steve is losing his mind. He's trembling, writhing and letting out a stream of incomprehensible noise, his mouth hanging open in a permanent gasp. He stares and stares at Bucky the whole time, and Bucky's chest tightens a little at the sight.

“I love you so much,” he whispers into Steve's mouth. “God, I love you so much, Steve, I love you.”

And God, he _does_. He loves this man so much that he could never explain it, couldn't even begin to try. But that's alright, because he knows it's the same for Steve. This thing between them- it's vicious and bright and alive, and there are no words for it. It's in their veins, sure as the blood coursing through them, but there is no name. Bucky doesn't mind that. Some things don't need names; there's nothing wrong with letting something stand as it is. You can still admire it that way, cherish it and explore it, hold it as your own. 

So that's what they do.

It feels deeper than love, really. Is there anything deeper? Yes. Bucky thinks so- _knows_ so, as Steve shakes apart in his hands, completely flushed and breathless.

He cries out Bucky's name, long and drawn out, as he comes. He shakes and sheakes, clenching around Bucky as his stomach is streaked white with his cum. Bucky works him through it, stroking him, and drops his hand when he whines with sensitivity. Steve holds his hips as he continues to thrust, and Bucky's panting.

“M gonna come,” he groans.

Steve just nods, out of it, and Bucky's thrusts become erratic, measured, perfect rhythm falling apart within moments. It doesn't take long for the build in his abdomen to break, and his body is flooded. He gasps raggedly as he comes, body ttrembling with the force of it.

It takes a moment to come down, and when he does, he finally pulls out, his limbs feeling like liquid. He throws his left arm out and finds the washcloth they used before and turns to Steve, gently wiping his stomach clean. He repeats the process between his legs, and presses tender kisses to the soft skin on the insides of his thighs. Steve hums softly, and Bucky smiles, tossing the washcloth to the floor. They'll deal with it in the morning.

“C'mere,” he says, voice low and soft, his arms held open.

Steve crawls closer, closing the space between them, and Bucky folds him into his arms. They're chest to chest, Bucky's hands gently stroking the skin of Steve's back, Steve's hands around his neck and resting in his hair. They kiss, and it's soft and a little sloppy. Fatigue tugs at Bucky, and Steve's eyes are already fluttering closed. He buries his face in Bucky's neck and breathes a sigh against the skin, boneless. 

It takes moments for Steve to fall asleep, his breath going deep and steady very quickly. Bucky's not far behind, but he keeps his eyes open so he can just look at Steve. Safe. Warm. Familiar. Steve is completely tangled with Bucky, physically and otherwise. 

It's quiet. The world is still, and everything is perfect. Steve is breathing into his neck, sound asleep, and Bucky can still hear the strangled way he said “I love you” only minutes before.

Flesh and bone, blood and muscle and tissue, they all house the beautiful, perfect thing that is Steve Rogers' soul. Bucky has never felt safer or more content in his entire life. It is here where he finds the most solace- wrapped in the arms of the man he loves, his scent and taste all around him. Overwhelmed, but in the best way imaginable. Bucky continues to stroke Steve's back, the skin hot and soft underneath his fingertips. Familiar patterns in his muscle, the layout. 

Bucky sleeps, and does not even dream.


End file.
